One shots I'll do whenever I'm bored.
Inspired by Miyavi's Onpu no Tegami (borrowed some lyrics) and the fact that I found out what an Electone is
I hate how I can't quite capture what I wanna express in this. Anyway, it's a really <i>really</i> incredibly vague fic so I'll leave it to you to decipher it's meaning.
Just Three Chords<b> I’m no good…</b>
Returning back to TV TOKYO’s station was not her plan, but the manager’s orders were always final. The camera crew started to shove and push, each desperate to leave the warm and uncomfortable van. Being the last to clear out of the vehicle, she managed to avoid being part of the shuffle. It’s not that the afternoon’s photo shooting went poorly, but it had been a rough day, despite the countless times that she had done this. Certainly exhausted, if not a little irritated as well, she made her way to one of the lobbies on the higher level.
<b> But I hope you’ll listen.</b>
She sat herself down on the windowsill, looking down at Tokyo, having to squint her eyes to catch a glimpse of urban men and women in interesting getups. And here she thought her promotional video outfits were too much. As the sun began to set, she thought of her recent activities, especially her photo book that would be published soon. She also wondered about her juniors, how they were now that they saw each other less due to photo shooting sessions, radio shows and their own separate sub-groups. Their friendship seems to have thinned over the generations, causing her some her necessary worry.
Soon growing bored of people watching, she stood up and walked towards the corridors adjacent to the public room. However tired she was, she couldn’t help but grow restless by just sitting around and waiting for instructions. She continued down the crammed hallway, tracing an invisible line with her finger across the whitewash walls as she walked.
<b> It’s not much though, </b>
Unconsciously, she started humming a tune that she had never heard before. It calmed her down, and had caught her full attention as well. The melody was beautiful, yet melancholic, as if it’s composer was playing in pain, subtle with a little longing. Though probably not quite it, she did not know just how to describe this unknown tune. In a way, the wordless music sounded like an attempt to convey a message, one that she was not able to completely understand yet. Passing by the recording studios, it took her more than a second to realize that she had been humming along to the exact tune that was coming from the music room. Her ears had earlier managed to pick up the melody despite its volume.
<b> I hope it reaches you. </b>
Captured by the haunting music, she stood behind the thin translucent door. She closed her eyes in order to fully concentrate on this particular piano piece. It seems to be connected to her somehow, for some reason. Being a vocalist more often than not, it’s hardly everyday that she gets to fully listen to just the instruments themselves without having to worry about whether she is capable of eventually singing in harmony when they start recording, or if she is placing in enough emotions and power to her voice. She did not even have the time and luxury to actually listen to music itself like now. All she wanted to do for the next few minutes was to be in the shoes of the audience and enjoy, even if only for a moment. For once, she wants to truly understand what she was listening to.
<b> There are many things I had never said to you, </b>
The music itself on the surface seems complicated to someone like her, one who had never played an instrument before. Every note the pianist hit had a distinct amount of delicacy and strength applied, that she could at least feel. As soon as the song reached what seems like a chorus (as identified by her limited music vocabulary), she felt her heart skip a beat, as if taken by surprise. The music grew intense, like a sort of conviction had been made. It was unlike the abandoned and uncertain verses she had heard earlier. She felt rushed by the change of tempo, and compelled to do something rash. Her hand automatically reached out for the knob but relaxed just in time, resting there as the music began to slow down, reverting back to the same few notes from before the chorus, as if a promise was secretly being made. Each note held longer intervals now, and then quietly, it came to an unexpected end.
<b> Because I’m not always good with words. </b>
She opened her eyes as soon as she noticed that the playing ceased to continue. Little did she realize that a lone teardrop had made its way down her cheek, showing how much she had been affected by the emotions placed into the music. Intrigued by this mysterious tune she had fallen in love with, she was eager to know who the person behind the piano was. Composing herself quickly, she turned the knob. Most of the lights in the room had been turned off. It was a different room from the ones where she used to have vocal lessons in; this particular place was as big as a dance room, with a grand piano situated in the corner, spotlighted by a lone ceiling light. The somberness of the song still lingering in the air, adding to the already lonely atmosphere. Rather than ponder over what this room was meant for, she softened her footsteps and neared the piano.
<b> It is embarrassing. </b>
When she approached the end of the room, she was met with surprise and familiarity. The pianist sat on the bench, staring down at the keys of black and white and running her fingers over them in consideration. Her head was slightly tilted, likely to be deep in thought for not noticing that another person had entered the room. It was the first time she had seen this person like that.
“I didn’t know you played the piano…”
The newcomer spoke up. She came up closer to the pianist and stood by her side, brushing her fingers lightly over the few keys on the right end of the piano. Her unannounced arrival and action took the pianist by surprised, snapping her out of her dream state. She jerked from her seat and looked up, eyes wide opened.
“When did you get here!?”
“Just. Were you the one playing that… song?”
The younger girl shrugged and played a part of the piece that lasted only a few seconds. It was enough to answer the older girl’s question.
“I’ve only played the electone before, not much of a pianist actually.”
“Oh, I remember. It was beautiful though…”
The younger girl kept quiet at the compliment.
<b> So I put it in the form of music. </b>
“Did you understand it?”
“A Little."
“That’s good.”
“Would you teach me to play that song?”
The elder of the two asked, pressing down on the keys as though it’s a difficult task. There was a form of restrain on her part, yet she was interested in replicating the song through her own fingers. The younger girl stood up at the question and shifted a few steps away from the piano.
“I won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it was only meant for one person to hear.”
<b> Even if it was only like this, </b>
“That’s… unfortunate.”
“It’ll lose it’s meaning if someone else plays it.”
“I see… Would <i>you</i> play it again though?”
“Probably not.”
The novice pianist smiled bitterly at her friend and started to make her way out of the room without a second thought, leaving the other alone with the grand instrument. She who had been left in the room sat down on the piano bench and pushed her finger against the white keys. Once her friend was really out of range, she finally let out what had been going through her mind all this while.
“Something with this much pain in it shouldn’t be experienced twice…”
She whispered to the piano as she played random alternate notes, each growing softer and lasted longer as she guided her fingers down the keyboard. A coincidental yet fitting end to what the other had left off.
<b> I hope you would understand these three simple chords. </b>
Topic: When Insomnia Attacks (One shot collection [12]) (Read 25885 times)